


Everyday, I Wish So Damn Hard (They Are Never Granted)

by BevedUpRose



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:01:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BevedUpRose/pseuds/BevedUpRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington's absents is really getting to Tucker</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday, I Wish So Damn Hard (They Are Never Granted)

_I wish I wasn’t scared._

Tucker’s squad wasn’t the best and neither was he but they relied on him, and that scared him shitless. The thought of having someone else’s life on his hands...If he fucked up then one of them would pay. He couldn’t lose another person, not after Rogers, Cunningham, not after Washington.

He talked a big game but inside he was just a scared kid in a big man’s war. 

Tucker remembered that day so vividly, it was like he was reliving it, every god damn day. He had yelled at Wash to follow them, he even resorted to using the private radio in their helmets to plead with Washington to come with them. He knew his voice failed him a bit, he did not care; he let the raw desperation flow from his lips, hoping that Washington would listen. He was too scared to leave his safe spot in the cave.

Through the pleading Washington said nothing, he just looked at Tucker and whispered into the radio, so only Tucker could hear.

“I’m sorry.”

Tucker did not know what Washington meant by it, not until he felt the ground shake beneath him and the darkness overcome them. In that moment he was happy for his helmet, it hid his quivering lips and the tears that silently fell from his wide eyes.

_I wish you didn’t leave._

For the past few months after Washington’s capture Tucker has been done. Just. Fucking. DONE. Sadness, frustration, and anger, so much fucking anger. He was angry for the longest time, and still is, at Washington. Why did he have to pull that fucking heroic self sacrifice bullshit?! He could have just ran with them, they could have gotten away. As these thoughts ran rampant in Tucker’s mind he couldn’t bring himself to truly hate the Freelancer.

He was frustrated that everyone saw him as a great leader, they said he had so much talent, when really it was all Washington. The intense drills and training, though he would rather not admit it, helped Tucker become a better soldier. It’s this reason he felt so frustrated that he couldn’t help Wash. He would take his frustration out on his squad from time to time, poor Palomo received most of it. Tucker would instantly regret it, mumble sorry, and give them a break for the rest of the day.

Each night, as he entered his bunk, he would sit on his bed, take off his helmet, and turn on the radio. At first he would try to contact Washington, try to see if he was ok. He never received an answer but he kept on trying, hoping that one day he would. After a while he would just talk aimlessly, as if Washington were in the room with him at that exact moment.  


_I wish you were listening._

He would talk about how everyone was. How Simmons and even Grif had taken to their new roles. Caboose was still the same, our new leader had the smart idea of not letting him near any vehicles. Tucker would say how he was still adjusting to having a squad and they were all trying their hardest to free him, Donut, and Sarge. By this point Tucker finally would notice the tears running down his face as they hit his visor.

_I wish I had more time._

More time to tell Washington how frustrated he was with all the training, just get one more complaint in and how thankful he was for it. Apologize for the things he said that, though Washington wouldn't admit it, hit a soft spot deep within him. More time to just spend with him, and maybe even tell him a few other things that dwelled on his mind and heart. Tucker throws his helmet at the wall in frustration, the loud clatter fills the room.

_I wish I didn't miss you so much._

Tucker held his head in his hands and cried. Silent tears, pitiful sobbing, it varied from time to time. Without Washington around Tucker began to notice the little things that he missed. He missed Washington’s yelling and how his voice would raise a few octaves when he was really angry. He missed how Washington would be so patient with Caboose and how he looked after them. He missed how he would pick up after them, no matter how many times they fucked up. He missed how on those rare lazy days Washington would be so content and worry free. He missed the normalcy the most, he missed Washington. 

Tucker ran his fingers over the metal that hung from his neck. 

They had gone back to Box Canyon, in the hope that they would find any evidence that their friends were still alive. They did not find much. Equipment was every where, the makeshift bunkers were destroyed. Everything was chaos. All Tucker was able to find was the Ex-Freelancer’s dog tags, he never let them out of his sight.

Exhausted, he laid in bed and slowly fell into a restless sleep, ready to start this mantra all over again the next morning. Before he fully falls asleep he says the last wish of the day.

“I wish you would come back to me.”


End file.
